


Spindleweed

by anneapocalypse



Series: Thedosian Verse (Poetry Collection) [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Other, Poetry, Spindleweed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Poem) It is an old country saying that spindleweed grows best for the sorrowful...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spindleweed

**Author's Note:**

> It is an old country saying that spindleweed grows best for the sorrowful. Verdant spindleweed in a household’s garden has often brought neighbors offering consolation, usually without even asking what might be wrong.
> 
> This originates from the plant’s use as a seasoning for dishes meant to speed the recovery of the infirm. A person who grows much of it is likely caring for the fatally ill.
> 
> -An excerpt from _The Botanical Compendium_ , by Ines Arancia, Botanist (Dragon Age 2 Codex)

Flag of my sorrow, sown  
after Ferelden’s bitter rains  
with a prayer it would take root  
and wouldn’t drown.

But the sun returned,  
and our garden’s choked with healing  
leaves that draw the neighbors’ eyes.  
I find small tokens on the step:  
a loaf, a coin or two,  
though in the streets  
they barely meet my gaze.

Maker, I would do anything –  
but my entreaties late have turned  
to red leaves, and twisted stems.  
I bend at these strange spindles, threaded  
with the flax of terror and hope,  
turning and twisting.

Crimson careful-plucked  
from ready stalks, sufficient left  
to keep them thriving in the tenuous spring.  
The pruning makes them climb,  
twining toward the sun.

Hands at the mortar, crushing,  
leaves for the pot of thinning stew  
that sustains you, if only just.  
Stirring them in, I close my eyes  
only a moment cease my watch.  
Only a moment wanes my strength,  
only a moment.  
I cannot.

In the morning I’ll wake hollow,  
and going to the garden, find my heart  
ensnared among scarlet leaves.  
Twist and turn.


End file.
